


Crawl for Me

by orphan_account



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Hatari - Fandom
Genre: BDSM, hatari, sub, sub/dom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-18
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-12-22 19:36:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21081986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: For once, Matthías would like to be the submissive one...





	Crawl for Me

Trailing down the exposed skin of his neck, perhaps even following the raised path of a single, pulsing vein, the bead of sweat seems to travel at a near imperceptible speed - so much so that the figure watching him pauses, eyes following it as if to check time is still moving, that reality has not stopped. The watcher sucks in a deep breath, then continues their approach to their prey, who kneels before the backdrop of black velvet, the softness of which contrasted with the gleaming buckles and shining leather that encase his body, much akin to a cage.

Out of the darkness, a hand reaches forth to brush through his dark hair, the sheer gentleness of which causing him to whimper a little, his blue eyes snapping shut as it sends ripples of warmth through his body.

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” the figure coos, their voice gentle get assuring Matthías that if he attempts to breach that order again, there will be consequences - the thought of which sends a tingle through his nerves. Perhaps he wants to discover the punishment that lies in wait for him, but then again, perhaps he does not.

In response to the figure’s words, Matthías merely swallows, holding back another whimper as their touch turns from soft to hard, their fingers moving to grip at his chin and turn his face upwards.

“Whatever will I do with you, pretty boy?” they relax their grip once more, moving their hand instead to follow that vein, that bead of sweat, all the way down to his bare throat, “Ah - we’re missing something,”

With that, the figure is gone, leaving Matthías alone in the half light of the room. Unsure of what is in store for him, he shuffles uneasily on his knees, the hard floor starting to cause him aches despite the carpet of velvet he kneels on. Somewhere in the darkness there’s a clink of a buckle coming undone, and almost before Matthías can dare to take another breath the figure has returned, their arms reaching out to present something to him.

A  _ collar _ .

He blinks. He’d asked for this, he’d asked, for once - instead of playing the glaring dom he is on stage - to be the bleary eyed sub, willing and happy to do anything they are told. They know this, that it’s his first time as the one on their knees, and so they pause for a moment, watching him as he swallows down the nerves, waiting for him to agree - they know as well as anyone that they can’t push him too far.

Unsure of what to do, Matthías glances up at the figure, the curiosity in his eyes enough for them to step forth, slipping the collar around his neck and tightening it a little. As their fingers move away, to retrieve something else, Matthías closes his eyes as he accustoms to the feel of the collar, the supple leather feels soft against his skin, but the weight of the spikes adorning the outside and the gentle tightness of it is enough to make him constantly aware of it. 

Feeling a tug at the collar, his eyes snap open once more, their blue hues turning grey in the faint light as he stares up. With one end looped around the hand of the figure, a leash stretches across the gap between them, tethered at the other end to a loop in his collar.

They give a test tug, the force of it taking Matthías by surprise, in response to it he jerks forward, forgetting the order for a moment and letting out a little yelp. The figure tuts, shaking their head as Matthías scrambles to regain his position,only for him to be met with a wall of black latex.

“Be quiet,” they hum, tugging on the leash once more. This time Matthías can’t help but fall forwards, landing with a smack on his hands.

It’s only now that he realsies how sweaty they are, how nervous yet excited he is - there is something oh so very liberating about this. About being powerless.

“Crawl for me,” the figure orders, stepping to the side. 

Hearing this, Matthías dares to shoot a quick glance upwards, his hair sticking to the faint pearls of sweat that line his forehead. The glare he receives in return is enough to make him look away, but still he does not move, in his silence he is rebellious, tempting fate to give him that punishment he desires so.

“I said crawl for me,” they order again, this time accompanied with a snap of the leash.

Right arm first, Matthías begins to crawl forward, fully aware of the eyes on him as he does so. All the times he has watched others do the same for him, he had never considered how humiliating it can be. Humiliating, but damn good.

He’s barely gone three paces when he realises he enjoys it, that the warmth coursing through his veins is not from embarrassment but arousement - but he doesn’t dare to hope that he will be given exactly what he wants, not yet.

“Good boy,” he hears the voice from behind, their tone soft yet laced with that husky rawness that comes with such a spectacle, “Good boy,”

The praise washes over him in a wave of sickly warmth, the feeling going right to his groin where it seems to linger for a moment, making him sweat a little more beneath the gaze of the figure and the leather of his harness. As he crawls, he feels the sweat trickle down his back, making him feel sticky, gross, but the sudden shock of something cold pressing on his spine makes him cry out, earning him an instant tug of the leash.

He kneels in silence, as the figure presses the icecube against his burning skin again and again, the constant shock of his own warmth and the freezing cold of the icecube sends his nerves into overdrive, making him whine and whine for more,  _ more _ .

“What did I tell you, pretty boy? I told you to be quiet,” the figure hums, dropping the leash on the floor and moving the hands to their own trousers, “You seem to be unable to do that. So I’ll give you something to make you quiet,”

Matthías gulps, barely able to hear their words over the thrum of blood in his ears.

“Come here,” they tug him forward, hand looped through the collar, “Make it good,”

Oh.

As Matthías drops his eyes from their face to look ahead of him, he struggles not to lick his lips. Oh - this isn’t a punishment. This is a treat. And a big one at that.


End file.
